


Fuckin' dads, right?

by DrawingWithGreen13



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bi-cicles, It's Rich of course there's gonna be cursing, M/M, Mild Cursing, Mr Heere is! A good dad!, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrawingWithGreen13/pseuds/DrawingWithGreen13
Summary: Fathers, in this sense, are like fingerprints. All completely different from one another.Not for Richard Goranski. To him, every dad was a clone; a threat.





	Fuckin' dads, right?

**Author's Note:**

> I was suddenly in the mood to write some Rich venting to Jeremy about his dad, so here you go. Bi-cicles isn't one of my biggest ships, but I still enjoy it quite a bit (the dynamic is so fun to work around)

Not every father figure in the world is the same, of course. Some are kind and offer to help you with your homework, some are sneaky and pretend to be a ghost underneath a sheet to scare you, some will take less of a fatherly roll and more of a mentor role and teach you about how to be a good person, and the list goes on and on and on. Fathers, in this sense, are like fingerprints. All completely different from one another.  
  
Not for Richard Goranski. To him, every dad was a clone; a  _threat_.  
  
Having a loving and caring dad in his life had been impossible for the whole sixteen years he had lived, so it was like one of God's cruel jokes that he had never gotten the chance to be nurtured right. People often wondered why he was so short for a sixteen year old boy, or why he always seemed thin around the waist, or why he was so aggressive (even without the SQUIP) over the littlest of things. Why should they ask? It wasn't their problem.  
  
It didn't help that his still-new-and-getting-used-to-it boyfriend happened to be the only other one in his friend group whose only parent was a father.  
  
When Jeremy had invited Rich over to his house for some video games, Rich's immediate response was silence. A small shift in his expression, maybe, but words? Nah. On one hand, spending time with his boyfriend sounded wonderful, even if it was just for something he could have done in his own home. But why would he want to do that? Being with the adorable and geeky Jeremy Heere in an environment where he didn't feel like he was going to get a black eye for arriving home late? Win-win.  
  
But, on the other hand...  
  
"You must be Rich!" Mr Heere exclaimed, wearing a pair of sweatpants. It wasn't exactly fancy, but it was a step up, and Jeremy was relieved that he at least had something besides boxers on. "Heere. Mr Heere."  
  
His hand reached out for Rich to shake, but the action caused him to flinch.  
  
"...I..." Rich rubbed his neck, which appeared to be damp from sweat. "S-sorry. Yeah, I'm Rich. Richard Goranski."  
  
Mr Heere gave him that classic worried-parent expression, and was tempted to reassure him, but after receiving a quick 'I'll tell you later' glance from Jeremy, he decided not to press further. Him and Rich shook hands.  
  
He still felt cautious when he watched the two teenagers travel to Jeremy's room, and saw that Rich's figure looked tense and held together, tightly.  
  
  
  
"Whoa," is all that Rich spouted, when he first entered Jeremy's room. The walls were dawned with posters of retro video games, bands that he liked, and even a few that were just for the Aesthetic **™**. His bed was made, even though the covers looked a little creased, and it was all very, very blue.  
  
"I'm a geek, I'm sorry," said Jeremy, feeling his cheeks go slightly red. His tone didn't suggest that he was one hundred percent concerned, because his words were laced with a chuckle.  
  
Rich just smiled. "I like it, man. It's..."  
  
"Lame?"  
  
"What? No way. I was gonna say 'adorably nerdy, just like you', but I'm not  _that_  cheesy."  
  
Jeremy scoffed. It was an embarrassed, flattered and surprised scoff. Probably more embarrassed, because his cheeks were on fire, and that caused Rich to let out a triumphant chuckle. Making his boyfriend flustered was his new nine-to-five job.  
  
"So...video games?"  
  
Rich nodded, already grabbing a controller. "What's that game you and Michael play, all the time? Something to do with zombies..."  
  
"Apocalypse of the Damned," Jeremy replied. Rich wanted to play  _that_? "We'll need to play in a different save slot, though; Michael would kill me if he saw our own game's progress completely erased."  
  
Jeremy was a dork, and that made Rich chuckle. "Sure."  
  
  
  
It was definitely a style of gameplay and graphics that Rich was not used to, and he blamed most of his deaths and lacklustre weapon choices on a headache he supposedly had from the colours and music, but the two managed to get through a few levels just fine.  
  
Rich sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Fuck, dude, these controllers are so small."  
  
"Says the guy with baby hands," Jeremy replied, attempting a smirk, which came out as looking like he was trying to get a piece of food out of his teeth, while keeping his mouth closed. "Look at mine. I'm surprised my thumbs can even fit over the buttons."  
  
Baby hands...Rich took a glance at his hands, and found that they were, indeed, very baby-sized. Not literal baby sized, of course. But they were far smaller than your typical teenager's hands. Now that he was looking at them...he didn't like them.  
  
It was probably  _his_  fault.  
  
"Yo, dude, what's this one?" Rich's character selected a strange looking sword from the floor. It was large, and had a bright blue handle.  
  
Jeremy's eyes lit up. "Dude, gimme that! That's my favourite weapon!" and before Rich even had a chance to reject, Jeremy's character immediately took the weapon from his hands, smugly proud.  
  
"Dude."  
  
"I know."  
  
The two laughed, and only laughed harder when they heard the pixalated sounds of a zombie falling over the edge of a cliff. The poor sound quality, mixed with the way the zombie groaned, just added to the humour.  
  
The laughter came to a pause when Mr Heere entered, looking pleased to see his son playing an old video game with someone, instead of being out somewhere and wearing one of those weird Eminem t-shirts. God rest his soul.  
  
The pair turned around to face him, and Jeremy smiled, though it was more of a sarcastic grin. "Will there ever be a day where you  _don't_  walk in on me and whoever's over playing video games?" He asked. Mr Heere just laughed, like how a dad would laugh.  
  
"Probably not. I was just dropping by to ask if you boys wanted some pizza. I'll pay."  
  
Pizza, again? That seemed to be his go-to 'Jeremy has guests over; I should get them something!' food. Not that Jeremy minded. Pizza was good.  
  
"Sure! Just the same thing, for me." Jeremy replied, his smile becoming more genuine. He faced Rich. "You want anything?"  
  
Rich didn't reply. In fact, he wasn't even looking at either of them, anymore. He was just staring at Jeremy's Megaman poster on his wall, a blank expression on his face. He had grown uncharacteristically quiet, ever since Mr Heere had entered.  
  
"...dude?"  
  
He snapped back. "Oh, uh...anything's good."  
  
Jeremy and Mr Heere both shared an uncertain and concerned glance, but Mr Heere understood, and decided against saying anything else, and left the two alone.  
  
The game had been paused, meaning that it was a perfect time for Jeremy to talk to Rich, who was still staring off into space. "...Rich?"  
  
"He doesn't seem drunk."  
  
Jeremy raised a brow. "D...what? What do you mean 'drunk'? He doesn't drink."  
  
There was the frustration in Rich's eyes that Jeremy was so familiar with. It didn't come up as much as it used to, thankfully, but it still scared him, every time. "Oh, yeah? What was that thing you told me, before? 'Yeah, my dad drinks'?"  
  
...oh.  
  
"That...uh, that was a lie."  
  
"Oh."  
  
That 'oh' was enough to send chills down Jeremy's spine. It was cold, and cutting, and  _angry_. He wasn't sure if he was safe to stay, or if he should've ran, or if he should've comforted Rich, because it was clear that he still had something on his mind.  
  
Rich's expression softened.  
  
"...your SQUIP told you to say that, huh?"  
  
Of course he'd guess that. "Y-yeah..."  
  
Rich sighed. "Sorry...I just-"  
  
His words were cut off by the sound of...groaning? Deep, low groaning...almost like...Jeremy turned around to face Rich, who appeared to be hugging himself, specifically around his stomach, as his cheeks grew red. Was he  _blushing_?  
  
"...are you hungry?" Jeremy asked, not being able to hide a small smile creeping onto his face. Seeing Rich look so cute was a rarity, even though he didn't look like he was happy.  
  
"Sorry," Rich replied, visibly embarrassed. "He didn't f- I didn't have breakfast, this morning."  
  
That made Jeremy's brow raise. He didn't eff...what was the word Rich was going to say? Jeremy thought, and slapped himself mentally for the first word that came into his head being 'fuck', because why would he say 'he didn't fuck', when talking about break-  
  
_Oh_.  
  
"Your dad didn't feed y-"  
  
Jeremy's words were caught in his throat when he saw Rich seemingly flinch from nothing. A quick look at his face showed that he was...scared. Scared, and frustrated. He attempted to rub his thumb over Rich's knuckles, and its seemed to work, because Rich started to slowly calm down. His expression eased.  
  
"Sorry. I...i-it's just hard..."  
  
Jeremy's hands went cold. Rich was opening up about his dad. This couldn't end well. "Yeah, I know."  
  
" _Do you_?" there was the spine-chilling, frustrated tone, again. "Do you  _really_  know? Do you live every single day of your life, afraid that your dad will be drinking again, or that he'd destroyed another piece of furniture, or that he'll hit you for saying the wrong thing-"  
  
His rant was cut short by himself. He...didn't mean to say that. Jeremy was just listening, slack jawed and wide eyed.  
  
"...he hits you?"  
  
Rich said nothing. His eyes were glued to his feet, as his breathing increased in weight, a little, like he were trapped in a small room and trying to focus on one single thing to prevent him from going insane. Jeremy felt an instant pit form in his stomach.  
  
"I'm sor-"  
  
"It's not your fault, " Rich interrupted, the angry voice now replaced with one that was uncharacteristically mellow and...guilty. "It's nothing new, anyway. I just..."  
  
He looked back up at Jeremy, and could read his expression perfectly. He was silently convincing him to continue. He took a deep breath.  
  
"I should love him, I know. That's what you're meant to do with your parents, right? Love them? But it just gets...it gets so hard to do that, after so long. He gets...really angry. Like,  _really_  angry. I don't think there's been a single day where he hasn't broken something."  
  
Jeremy listened and nodded along.  
  
"You know that he drinks. He drinks a lot. The house always smells of beer, I hate it. And I hate that I just can't... _love_  him like I'm supposed to. I want to, but he makes it impossible. I don't even think  _he_  loves  _me_."  
  
Jeremy almost gasped, but considering what Rich had been describing...that didn't sound like much of a surprise.  
  
"He never talks to me, unless it's for something bad I've done, he never says how proud he is of me...always gives me weird glares...doesn't feed me, hits me..."  
  
His voice grew very quiet for those last two statements. Jeremy could do nothing but frown. The fact that Rich got hit still settled uneasily in his stomach.  
  
"...sorry, I didn't mean to turn this into a pity party."  
  
"No, dude!" Jeremy instantly replied, pausing due to an unfortunate voice crack. It made Rich smile, at least. "Tell me. I'm all ears."  
  
Rich's smile slowly dissolved. "I think that's all I can really say. He ignores me, a lot, so...yeah."  
  
"Is that why you seemed so nervous around  _my_  dad?"  
  
Why did he ask that? Idiot.  
  
Rich didn't react with a snarl or a glare or anything, besides a defeated smile. "I'm as clear as a window, huh? Yeah, I...I don't really...trust dads."  
  
"That's understandable."  
  
"But yours seems like a nice guy. At least  _he_  has the decency to wear pants, around the house."  
  
Wow. Rich was  _perfect_  for him.  
  
"Yeah," Jeremy sighed. He didn't expect the hang out to end up with his boyfriend taking about how much of a piece of shit his father was. "I'm...sorry. That you gotta put up with that."  
  
Rich waved his hand, in a so-so manner. It was something he's dealt with for years. He could handle a few more.  
  
Rich's stomach growled again, causing that oh-so rare and adorable blush to coat his cheeks. That look alone lifted the tension in the air, along with Jeremy's giggling.  
  
"You need that pizza, man," he choked out through his laughter. Rich, after a few seconds of trying to recover from embarrassment, started to laugh along, with him.  
  
"Yeah, I do."  
  
The game was still paused, and neither of the two boys seemed to notice. They didn't even remember that it was still on. They were too caught up in their relieved laughter. A pair of two giggling teenagers, happening right after a vent about one of the teens' abusive father.  
  
Sounded like a normal hang out with Jeremy Heere, all right.


End file.
